


Head On Into The Sun

by dire_quail



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Kneeling, Memory Magic, One Shot, Oral Sex, Past Lives, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reunion Sex, Service, Set roughly after 1x05 'The Sea Gate', Sex Magic, Slightly AU take on their powers and connections and how they work, Throne Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26491531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dire_quail/pseuds/dire_quail
Summary: Post "The Sea Gate", She-Ra and the Queen of Salineas reunite after a thousand years apart.(has a suuuuuuuuuper whimsical take on the connections between the Princesses)
Relationships: Adora/Mermista (She-Ra)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25
Collections: The Annual Femslash Kink Meme 2019





	Head On Into The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "Buena Vista" by Jeen
> 
> For the prompt: _Adora/Any princess, She-Ra services the princess’ needs_

“I don’t see much magical power come through here, even though Salineas is the gateway to the continent. Not compared to me, anyway.” 

Mermista’s gaze roves over She-Ra’s form. The light of the sun through the windows catches and gleams on brighter golden highlights within her eyes, sunlight rippling at the surface. But something shifts under them, slow and titanic and restless. Inevitable. “You’re dripping with it, though.” 

Adora would probably stammer at a line like that, normally. But something holds her in place, holds itself up under Mermista’s gaze for appraisal and watches patiently in return, part coy and part haughty, doesn’t crumble _just yet_. Something too deeply felt to be simple confidence, more like _knowing_ —but they only just met today. 

But they’ve done this before, maybe hundreds of times. 

Black-painted fingernails skim over She-Ra’s shoulder. Adora bites her lip to hold in a sound. She’d never had the benefit of Mermista’s full attention, really. Not before everyone else left. 

If she’s dripping with power, then so is Mermista. 

There’s an answering flare in Mermista’s eyes as she meets Adora’s, sharp—approval and then a flicker of recognition, almost a hesitation. There’s a tug in Adora’a gut, a rip-current pulling her towards Mermista. Something impossibly strong—but She-Ra could stand against it. Or could she? Adora could drag this out, see how taut she can stretch this moment between them.

Without Glimmer here driving political negotiations, or a broken Sea Gate to fix, Adora can really feel what Mermista’s power and presence is like. Vast and heavy and churning—and then flowing and agile. It makes her feel weightless, head-spun. If she wasn’t She-Ra, it might have brought her to her knees. 

She lets it pull her forward a step. Mermista’s chin drifts up slightly, lids growing heavy. Her mouth softens, and Adora is stranded here in the best way. Mermista’s hand drops from her shoulder, sinking down to her bicep. The heel of her hand comes to rest against Adora’s forearm. Those nails dig lightly into the skin of her upper arm. It sends an electric shiver through her body wildly disproportionate to the touch. 

Mermista’s chin tilts up and her eyes slide shut the rest of the way. Mermista kisses open-mouthed, hungry, surging against her. 

There’s an easy confidence to her bond with her powers that Adora can’t help but admire. She has a clear mastery, but unlike Adora’s facility with magic as a weapon, Mermista’s powers feel like an expression of her _self_. Unlike Perfuma, so reticent to fight or think of her powers as weapons, or Glimmer, determined to _find_ a way to use her powers as a weapon and prove herself, Mermista feels like a walking reminder of the awesome power inherent in just existing as a princess. Even though she’s uncertain when it comes to facing the Horde—and that, Adora thinks, comes down more to a lack of allies than anything else. 

It makes her kisses, just being in her presence, magnetic. 

They’re all figuring this out together—her, Glimmer, Perfuma, and now Mermista. How to be Princesses. How to be She-Ra. Just like with Glimmer and Perfuma, Adora feels herself on the precipice of knowing something about herself, about She-Ra. It’s terrifying, like she might lose her footing and plunge forever—but whatever is waiting for her is on the other side of that jump. 

She slides one arm around Mermista’s waist, marveling at the span of She-Ra’s hand across her lower back, when her knees feel almost weak. How Mermista leans into her in response, wrapping her arms around Adora’s neck and shoulders. Her hands leave trails of heat and magic in their wake. Golden and blue light licks the edges of everything like flame, even with her eyes closed. 

And something rises in her, heady and victorious, steadfast and hungry, as Mermista chooses her, comes to rest against her. Recognizes her. 

And there’s a joy, too, in every kiss, every inch of their bodies pressed together, like this is some kind of… reunion. It grows bright behind her eyelids, climbs hot up her spine like a thousand tiny filaments run under her skin, through her veins and nerves and muscles, and all of them are pulsing with magic. 

It’s like turning into She-Ra times a hundred. Adora opens her eyes from that kiss to a dazzling, shimmering pulse. The crystal over the throne is glowing, flaring and fading in slow pulses like a heartbeat. Adora can feel the same pulse in the sword, and she knows some part of her, probably her eyes, are glowing. She’s not tired, really—but she’s breathing a little quicker, pulling a little more air. 

Adora manages to hold in any embarrassing _”Whoa”_ or blatant jaw-dropping. But Mermista seems to see right through her anyways. 

“You’ve got a lot to learn about this princess shit, don’t you.” Mermista’s smirking slightly, but it doesn’t seem unfriendly or dismissive. Not when she’s looking at Adora like she is now. Somewhere between intimate and observational, and devouring.

“Seems like it’s working for you.” Adora isn’t sure if the casual cockiness in her voice is her being high on She-Ra’s power, years of being taught to _lie lie lie_ in the face of uncertainty and doubt by the Horde—or if it _is_ She-Ra. She just knows it’s never come this easy. 

In the past, all that’s gone out the window with games of desire—it’s been her one weakness, really, tangled up as it is with her relationship with Catra. She’s never felt… this kind of dynamic… with anyone else. 

And this? This ancient, patient hunger coiling low in her belly? Bold words and trembling knees and sharp knowing glances and a touch that communicates _everything_? The familiarity of hundreds of times together over the centuries, clocking the differences, what’s the same—and melting back together?

Makes Catra’s taunting look like child’s play. No shame, or threat, or petty social scrambling. Just power and connection. 

And _want_.

“Trust me, I am _not_ complaining.” Mermista dives in for another hungry kiss, arms tightening. Adora’s hands tighten on Mermista’s waist, her lower back. It makes Mermista sway into her deliciously, arching and going ever-so-slightly up on her tiptoes. 

And to think, Mermista’s taller than her when she’s just Adora. 

Adora slides She-Ra’s hands down even further, over the curve of Mermista’s hips, bending her knees so she can curl her hands around Mermista’s thighs and straighten, lifting her up. She’s far from heavy, but there’s a weight to this that has nothing to do with that. Something precious and unique in every inch her hands cover. 

Mermista moves with her, sliding her legs around She-Ra’s waist, crossing her ankles behind She-Ra’s back, pulling herself flush. The heat of her presses against Adora’s stomach, radiates down Mermista’s thighs against Adora’s flanks. Adora’s arms settle into place, one supporting Mermista, the other around her back, holding her close. 

With the change in angle, kissing is easier. Mermista slides both hands into She-Ra’s hair and deepens the kiss, and Adora’s head _is_ spinning, now. They’re pressed almost chest-to-chest. Adora isn’t sure if it’s their heartbeat or magic or both that she can feel, echoing through their close-pressed bodies like a mirror, two halves of a whole beating next to each other. Mermista’s hands tighten in her hair, legs around her waist. Adora’s arms tighten. The power closes around them, too, licking at their skin, soothing and right—intoxicating and goading. She’s not pulling away from this kiss, strange and new and like coming home at the same time, for anything, even if she drowns in it. 

With one arm supporting Mermista, Adora’s other hand is free to move, sliding into the dip of her lower back, up to span between her shoulder blades, cup the small of her back. Trace the line of her upper arm. Back down her side. All the while that barely-separated wholeness steady, held between their bodies. 

They stay like that for… Adora isn’t sure how long. But it’s not a short amount of time. For all that the magic around them is _aching_ for them to finish this, for all that _she’s_ aching and Mermista is pressing against her slow and lazy, she’s not ready to be done touching her like this. Some part of Adora—of She-Ra—feels the need to re-learn Mermista. 

Mermista pulls back just enough to murmur _”Throne,”_ and Adora obeys, carrying her from where they were standing near the glyphs on the wall and going down on her knees to set her on the throne beneath the runestone. She stays on her knees once Mermista’s legs loosen around her. 

They’re not as close like this, but that sense of connection from being pressed close doesn’t fade. Actually, kneeling between Mermista’s thighs feels like something locking into place, an almost-audible _thunk_ of gears realigning and sinking together in some vast machine. Even She-Ra, whose height everyone insists on pointing out _all the time_ , seems to fit perfectly into this space, to sink herself down beneath Mermista’s gaze. 

For her part, Adora is reeling. She knew—she knows—the satisfaction of a job well-done, an objective achieved. A successful mission, a step forward, a notch tightened towards a final goal. She thought that that’s what she was made for. What they _built_ her for. What she built herself towards. Her purpose. 

But with her hands on Mermista’s thighs—and they’re not even done, she hasn’t played her part in this fully yet—it wells up in her, bends her mind and her gaze and her body, unfixes and uproots anything that doesn’t belong and dissolves it into so much dust, pulls her around and sets her to rights like a compass needle. Everything, for the Princess in front of her. She’s not sure how she’s going to endure anything more intense. She thought she’d known; but she’d had no idea. 

This is what she was made for. 

“Shit.” Mermista breathes, looking down her body at Adora. Light is beginning to filter through the strands of her irises, and there’s a flush risen all the way up her body. She grips the arms of the throne hard. “Ohh, I didn’t think this would work so well.” 

Adora feels one eyebrow rise. “You got something to learn about this Princess shit too?” 

Adora sees the comment register and knows in her gut she’ll pay for that later—but Mermista makes a sound and shifts her hips when Adora’s hands wrap around her thighs, reaching almost from one side where her thigh meets the throne to the other. Adora squeezes gently, callused thumb working in the sensitive spot on the inside of either thigh. A jolt runs through Mermista’s body. Adora continues, sliding up the inside of her thighs. 

“Shut up and put that mouth to better use, She-Ra.” Her voice has gone breathy at the edges, eyes heavy-lidded and glassy. But there’s a note of iron in there, too, and the runestone thrums blue and green and opaline above them, around them. A glow emanates from deep within Mermista’s eyes. 

Adora bows her head. 

The only reason Adora doesn’t echo the sound Mermista makes when her mouth presses to the seam of her leggings is because her mouth is busy. But the air still leaves her lungs, or maybe she just forgets how to coordinate her breathing, when everything goes like glass: ultra-clear, sharp-edged. Acutely aware of _everything_ , the smallest shifts of Mermista’s body and how it changes the way she’s pressed to her mouth. 

Adora mouths a kiss against the seam of her leggings, against the heat and the soft-swollen shape she can feel there behind it. Mermista’s hips shift ever-so-slightly, canting up to meet her mouth. Another kiss, and the heady scent of her has Adora’s head spinning, bending further to nuzzle against the seam, up, down, alternating dragging her lips there every few passes. Mermista’s hand is heavy on Adora’s head, but it’s all so light, all so light when she’s here, right where she’s supposed to be. The heat builds against her mouth, pulsing gently against her lips. 

Adora wants to tremble, wants to shake with all of it— _something_ , to show how much it’s affecting her, being this close. To give all of it some kind of exit. But she’s the steady bright edge permitted to be here, the conduit and the tool, and so she stays down on her knees and worships there, the light in her mind so bright it cuts, feels the cloth under her lips start to grow heavy as the wetness behind it builds. 

Mermista’s hand shifts in her hair. “Enough.” Adora pulls back obediently. 

They strip Mermista’s lower body with a little coordination. After a moment, Mermista tugs her top off, too. 

Adora’s gaze slides up Mermista’s body, unable to stop at any one place, unable to skip any of her. She finally lands on Mermista’s face, visibly flushed with her eyelids heavy and her eyes shimmering with topaz highlights, faint movement in sync with the wash of the magic around them. Adora inches forward, arms slipping over Mermista’s thighs, past her hips, to brace. Leans in like a supplicant, chin tilting up faintly. 

Mermista’s hand slides into her hair again, but she doesn’t close the gap at first. Just holds her there, looking. Finally, she leans in, and places a slow, surprisingly chaste kiss on her lips. 

The magic in the room, though, reacts like it’s something much more deep than that. The air in the room shivers, goes heavy and reverberates around them. Adora tastes the sharp salt tang of the air off the ocean from the outer harbor. 

_Queen of Salineas._

“As you were.” Mermista smirks as she pulls away, hand tightening in Adora’s hair—neither ungently, but simply expecting obedience. Only the faintest breathiness and quaver gives an audible hint of how affected she is. 

Adora sinks down, backing up to make herself short enough even for the throne, nudging her shoulders under Mermista’s thighs, planting one of her hands on the floor. Mermista’s legs spread, and Adora looks at her, _sees_ her—and crumbles like the crest of a long-running wave. 

Mermista breathes out a soft Oh when Adora’s mouth touches her, pulses petaled-open for her. Adora slides her tongue through the folds of her, tastes her, soothing and rasping gently, sucking and delving. Mermista spreads further. Adora deepens her movements obediently. Finds abundant wetness bursting on her tongue. Presses her jaw in, finds Mermista’s clit with her tongue and licks, envelops the head of it with her tongue. Mermista’s whole body shivers and her moan reaches Adora through the air and through her body, a submerged hum. 

Adora stays at Mermista’s clit for a long time, lavishing attention on it til it’s swollen and throbbing faintly against her tongue, her chin coated. The air feels heavy, thick. Mermista’s muscles are taut, contrast with the engorged labia that part so easily under her tongue, the slightly roughened feel of her entrance when Adora’s tongue dips down experimentally—Oh. That sound. The surge in the air around them, the turbulence it sets off. Mermista keeps her hips tight against Adora’s mouth, and Adora can feel the incredible tension there, the almost-flutters of muscle that almost signal her orgasm building. 

She was going to readjust so she could stay there at her entrance after the first orgasm has Mermista arching sharply, riding her mouth—but Mermista’s hand tightens in her hair, holding her in place, only letting her dip her tongue down teasingly. Adora catches herself, adjusts, and refocuses. Puts to use all her Horde training and every clue this magical re-introduction wants to give her to draw orgasm after orgasm out of Mermista. 

It’s all coming back to her. Memories that can’t be hers, or even Mermista’s. Arms around her shoulders, nails digging into the sensitive spot between her shoulder blade and her spine, biting into her lower back—a hand twisting hard in her hair. Heavy breathing in her ears, more than one name that isn’t hers. A lot of herself on her knees. 

The twilight sky in the harbor, banked embers on one horizon, stars sprayed across the sky. 

Finally, Mermista relents, and Adora’s still hungry, and the heady flavor flooding her tongue from Mermista’s entrance pulls her in, down and down and down. Adora sets her jaw and uses the whole breadth and length of her tongue, full, messy strokes, pushing in as far as physical limitations allow. Mermista lets out a stifled, stilted broken sound, pushing _down_ and curving her spine to tilt herself more fully against Adora’s mouth. It doesn’t seem like her tongue reaches very far, but that flavor deepens, slickens against her tongue, and the air in the room, even Adora’s breathing, seems to move with the rhythm Mermista sets for them with her hips. Small tremors race through the muscles in the inner thighs on either side of her head. Mermista’s hold grows sharper, stronger, til she’s riding Adora’s mouth, her tongue. 

Adora pulls one lip back in a snarl and lays the flat of her upper gum and teeth against the shaft of Mermista’s clit, rocks her jaw deliberately in a motion as familiar as the Sword and the Gate and all of this, and Mermista goes taut again. Small, low sounds come from her throat. 

When she comes, her back pulls into an arch, and she’s gripping Adora’s head to her so hard it probably would hurt if she wasn’t She-Ra. And Adora might notice or care if the feeling of Mermista coming in her mouth wasn’t piercing through her, didn’t make her ache and throb and rock against the air, so desperate it’s occurred to her she could touch herself—but she can’t. Everything that’s hers is going into Mermista. 

This is her purpose. To heal the planet. To heal the princesses. To make them all whole again. The Sword, her tongue, her hands—doesn’t matter. Everything in her surges toward this, aches for it, shapes herself towards it like one of Bow’s arrows. Everything in her is in service of this. 

When Mermista tugs Adora up to kiss her, blistering fierce and deep this time, her hands are shaking slightly. Sweat dews and slickens her skin where her own wetness doesn’t. Mermista licks the taste of herself from Adora’s swollen mouth, though, short nails scratching at her neck and her jaw—pushing Adora back, away from the throne. Adora slides back, feeling her own arousal thick and liquid between her legs as she moves. 

Mermista slides out from the throne and ends up kneeling with Adora—down on the floor with Adora, she’s significantly shorter again. But it puts her at the perfect angle for—

Adora whimpers when Mermista’s fingers slip cleverly between the waistband of her uniform and her skin and find her aching core, a flood of wetness. Her hips jerk as Mermista’s fingers brush her clit, so sensitive, untouched. Her legs spread wider on instinct, opening herself up to the touch. 

“Wider.” The words hum against her neck, her collarbone. Adora lets out another soft choked sound and slides her legs wider, plants one hand in case everything gives out. “Just like that. Fuck. Just like that.” 

It doesn’t take long—Mermista doesn’t stay silent, murmurs things against her neck, and then the shell of her ear as Adora collapses forward and she can reach that. Things that make Adora feel stripped naked, lifetimes’ worth of knowing, wanting, connection. _You still get so wet for me._ , _I’m going to have you dripping on my floor, She-Ra_ , _That’s it, that’s it. Look at you. Shaking for me_ , _Wider._ , _One last thing, Champion. Give me one last thing._

_Come for me._

Adora’s orgasm feels like it tears out of her, snaps her head back, hips forward, back and shoulders curved slightly with the angle they’re at—awkward for her, perfect for Mermista. Somehow, the discomfort and imbalance of it all makes her come harder. She’s not sure if she actually sees light radiating out of her, a shimmery rainbow haze, and brilliant gold like sunlight—but she wouldn’t be surprised. 

She slumps forward finally, spent, at least for a few moments, numb to everything but the aftershocks and the kisses pressing along the side of her neck, fingers sticky with her own wetness smearing up her neck and jaw, guiding her around so Mermista can kiss her again, and they can break apart, into exhausted breathless laughter. 

Adora doesn’t feel the tears streaking down her face at first, until she does, and she’s recovered enough to see Mermista’s eyes glittering, too. 

“You’re what’s been missing,” Mermista is saying, wondering, “It’s you. I didn’t even know— They never told me—“ But Adora is already shaking her head. 

“ _You’re_ what’s been missing. I let you all go, I left, I— I’m so sorry I was gone, I don’t— I don’t know—“ _Why. I don’t know why. I don’t know why any of this happened. Why did I leave you. Why did I leave any of you._ She steels herself, reaches one hand up to rest gently, envelop Mermista’s wrist, the back of her hand. “I’m back now. I’m back. I promise, I’m not leaving again. I’m gonna fix this.” 

Mermista’s hands tighten. “ _We’re_ gonna fix this. I don’t know what the fuck just happened, but I’m not letting you go again. We’re not letting you go again. Salineas is with you. _I’m_ with you.” 

Adora slumps forward, a weight evaporating from her shoulders, suddenly _so_ tired. Their foreheads rest together. 

“Good.” She breathes after a moment. “Because we need you. And I… I think _I_ need you.”


End file.
